Mrs J
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Harley Quinn has planned out every detail of her dream wedding. Now all she has to do is wait for the Joker to propose.


**Mrs. J**

"Puddin', I'm home!" called Harley Quinn, opening the door and entering the house, balancing groceries in her arms. She strolled down the hall to the kitchen, whistling. "Puddin', I got you some ice cream!" she called, opening the freezer. "You want some now?"

"No thanks, baby. Just come into our room," called the Joker's voice.

"In a minute, puddin'," she called back. "Just need to put away the frozens!"

"You can do that in a second, pooh. Come into the bedroom."

"They'll melt, Mr. J…"

"I said come into the bedroom, you stupid girl!" he shouted. Harley obeyed immediately, rushing down the hall and opening the door to their bedroom.

"Ok, Mr. J, what…" she began, but she stopped speaking as her jaw dropped.

Candles filled the room, and rose petals were strewn all over the floor and bed. The Joker was standing in the center of the room, smiling at her.

"Harley," he murmured tenderly, in his beautiful voice. "Harley. Do you know how special you are to me?"

"Mr. J?" she murmured, stunned. "What is all this?"

He grinned. "Come to Daddy, sweets," he whispered, holding open his arms. She obeyed, still shocked. Even more so when he took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly. "Harley, my beautiful, precious Harley girl," he whispered, gazing at her. "Daddy has something he would like to ask you. Something he should have asked you a long time ago."

"Yeah? What's that, puddin'?" murmured Harley, puzzled.

He smiled, and slowly got down on his knees. Harley's heart was pounding. "Oh, Mr. J…" she gasped. "I don't believe…"

He reached into his pocket and brought out a small box. Flipping it open, he revealed a huge, sparkling diamond ring. "Harley Quinn, will you marry me?" he asked.

Harley clapped a hand to her mouth, and sobbed. "Oh, Mr. J!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Mr. J! Yes! Yes, of course, I will, puddin'!" she cried, leaping into his arms. "Oh this is like a dream come true! Just like a dream…"

She was startled awake suddenly by a fist colliding with her skull. "Don't hit me, you stupid girl!" snapped an annoyed voice.

Harley sat up suddenly, disoriented, shocked by both her dream and her violent awakening from it. She saw the Joker sitting up in bed next to her, glaring at her, his eyes narrowed and rubbing his jaw. "Sorry…puddin'…" she murmured, rubbing her eyes. "Didn't mean to hit you…just…had a dream, that's all."

"A dream that involved hitting me?" he demanded.

"No, no, I was…jumping into your arms," she murmured. "Must have got a little overexcited and really lashed out. I'm sorry, puddin'."

He snorted. "Well, don't do it again," he snapped, lying back down and rolling over. Harley lay down too, shutting her eyes tightly and willing herself to fall alseep and pick up the dream from where she had left off. The annoying thing about good dreams was that she never seemed to be able to go back to them. But the glow from this particular dream was too strong to allow her to drift back off, and the disappointment of discovering it was just a dream made her suddenly sigh, deep and mournfully.

"What?" snapped Joker. "What is it?"

"Nothing, puddin'," she sighed.

"Then stop sighing and go back to sleep," he retorted. "Daddy needs his rest. Got a battle with Bats tomorrow, and I don't wanna be cranky for him."

"Sorry, puddin'," murmured Harley again. She tried to cry silently, but couldn't prevent sniffling now and then.

"Why are you crying?" he demanded, suddenly sitting up again. "Is it remorse for hitting me?"

"I am sorry about that, Mr. J," she sniffed. "But it's not…it's…oh, Mr. J!" she cried, suddenly bursting into loud sobs.

"Oh, for the love of…" he muttered. "Look, Harl, I've got a busy day tomorrow and I've already got a headache, so if you have to cry, can you go to the sofa?"

"Sure thing, Mr. J," she whispered, climbing out of bed and leaving their room. She headed to the living room and lay down on the sofa, but sleep eluded her there too. Sighing again and wiping her eyes, she resolved not to mope around like this and find something useful to do if she couldn't sleep. She headed for their private gym.

The workout didn't help unfocus her thoughts. As she bounced from beam to beam, flipping and spinning, all she could think about was how happy she had been in that instant, when she truly believed Mr. J was proposing to her, and was going to make an honorable woman of her at last. It was all she wanted in the world, to be his wife. Well, at least initially. Then she wanted kids. But she could never have them until they were married – Harley was an old-fashioned kinda girl like that.

She landed in front of the punching bag with Batman's face on it, and began hitting it repeatedly. "Sorry to take this out on you, Bats," she murmured as she pounded it. "It's not your fault, not really. I used to think it was. I used to think if you were out of the picture, Mr. J and I could settle down as man and wife. But I've kinda resigned myself to the fact that he just ain't the marrying type. It's nothing against me, y'know? He wouldn't marry any dame. Just not his style. Not a good joke, I guess. But that's the annoying thing about hope – it stays in your heart even after your head realizes it just ain't gonna happen. And I keep hoping, even though I know it's stupid, that one day he'll wanna put a ring on it and I'll be Mrs. J. Mrs. Joker," she sighed dreamily. "Mr. and Mrs. J, proud parents to little Arlene and J.J., who dream of growing up into supervillains just like their mommy and daddy, the Joker family versus the Bat family, one big happy family rivalry…"

She shook her head suddenly, and resumed punching the bag. "Not gonna happen," she muttered firmly. "Not gonna happen, Harley. Just accept that. Mr. J ain't the marrying type, and he ain't the fatherly type. But he would be such a good daddy, teaching the kids how to build bombs and fire guns, and showing them their first mutilation, his face beaming in pride as little J.J. took the knife and cut open the guy's face…"

She shook her head again. "Nah. Nah, forget it, Harley. It's a dream that won't come true. Just like your dream tonight. I mean, where would Mr. J even find that many rose petals? And all those candles would be pretty dangerous, really, what with all the explosives lying around here. Anyway, you should be happy. You've got a great life here with Mr. J, who's a great guy. A girl couldn't ask for anything more."

She nodded firmly and went to go take a shower. Drying her hair, she suddenly noticed that it was light outside. She must have exercised longer than she had thought.

The time was 7.30, and Mr. J always liked to be awake nice and early when he was fighting the Bat. So she returned to their room, intending to slip back into bed and awaken him with a kiss and a cuddle.

She opened the door to see him sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, coughing.

"Mr. J? You all right?" she asked, immediately concerned.

"Do I look all right?" he growled, rounding on her. He didn't, but Harley would never say it. But his face was paler than usual, his eyes were red and blotchy, his nose was streaming, and he sneezed suddenly.

"Aw, someone's a sick baby!" exclaimed Harley, rushing over to him and hugging him tightly. "My poor, poor puddin'! You just go back to bed and don't worry about a thing – your Harley girl will look after you!"

"Get off of me, Harley, as if I don't have a hard enough time breathing!" snapped Joker, coughing again as he shoved her away. "This is your fault, you useless dame, waking me up in the middle of the night and punching me! How's my immune system supposed to cope with crap like that? Anyway, I can't be sick. I have a battle with the Bat scheduled. It's a great plan, an entertainingly evil and catastrophically comic stroke of genius, and I won't let some stupid cold prevent me from accomplishing it!"

"But puddin'…" began Harley, but he ignored her, standing up and heading into the bathroom. He sneezed again, looking into the mirror, and suddenly his face fell.

"Aw, I look like hell!" he shouted, examining his eyes. "I can't fight Batsy looking like this! Harley, bring me some of your makeup!"

"I don't think it'll help, puddin'," she murmured, grabbing her makeup bag and rushing into the bathroom.

"Did I ask for your opinion?" he snapped, seizing the bag from her. "Have I ever done that in the entire history of our relationship?"

"No," murmured Harley.

"That's right. So shut up," he snapped, smearing some of her white makeup over his already white face. He sneezed again, and wiped his nose with his handkerchief.

"It's just gonna wipe off, puddin'…" Harley began again.

"I can see that, you dumb broad!" he shouted, furious, throwing her makeup at her. He turned back to the mirror, glaring at his reflection. "Well, this is just great! One of the most ingeniously insane plots of my criminal career, and I have to cancel it for some stupid cold! This isn't funny, not funny at all…" He launched into a fit of coughing.

"C'mon, puddin', come back to bed," said Harley tenderly, gently pulling him out of the bathroom. He shook her off and headed over to the phone, dialling a number.

"Roc? It's me. Look, tell the boys to go home, we'll do it another time. Yeah, you heard me. Another time. I'm sick. Dunno, something Harley gave me, the useless waste of space. No, not like that! Just a cold! Jesus, get your mind out of the gutter before I blow your brains out into the gutter! Oh, and if Bats shows up, tell him I'm sick, won't you? He might bring me flowers or something – he's a thoughtful guy. Send him my love, anyway, and my apologies for missing him. Tell him the anticipation only makes the payoff that much more satisfying! Hahahahaha…" the laugh deteriorated into a cough, and Harley took the phone from him, ending the call, and helped him back into bed.

"Can I get you anything, baby? What would make you feel better, puddin'?" she asked. "You wanna watch some TV? You want some pills or soup or something?"

"I want you to shut up," he said, feeling his forehead. "I've got a headache already and your voice isn't helping."

"Yes, sir," she murmured.

He shut his eyes, and Harley watched as his body relaxed and his breathing slowed, as if in sleep. She thought he must have fallen asleep for a moment, and stood up to leave him, when he suddenly asked, "What was your dream about last night?"

She turned back to him, shocked that he had remembered. "Puddin'?" she asked.

"You were crying," he said, opening his eyes. "What were you crying about?"

"Oh…it was nothing, puddin', nothing important," she replied.

"Then why were you crying?" he demanded.

"It's nothing for you to worry about, Mr. J, really," she insisted.

"Why don't you wanna tell me?" he demanded. "That's not like you, Harley. You don't ever hide stuff from me. I usually can't get you to shut up. What's so terrible about this dream that you can't share it with me? You and Batsy get it on?"

"Um…no, Mr. J," she replied. "Why would you think that?"

He shrugged. "I've had that one before. Didn't sleep for weeks afterward, and I couldn't face him again for a long time. Made things really awkward and uncomfortable between us. Just thought it might have been something similar."

"No, Mr. J, it didn't involve Bats," she said. "It was just the two of us."

"And you can't tell me something that happened between just the two of us?" he asked. "C'mon, Harley, you're not shy. And it can't be any more dark and depraved than the stuff we usually get up to. Might give Daddy a few ideas for when he feels better," he added, grinning. "Tell me, baby."

She nodded slowly. "I came home to find you in the bedroom. And it was all covered in candles and rose petals…"

"Sounds good so far," he murmured, smiling.

"And then you…got down your knees and…and…and you asked me to marry you," she whispered.

"Ah," he said, and then he was quiet. Harley looked intently at him, trying to judge what was going on his head. But even she, who knew him so well, couldn't tell sometimes. His face was emotionless and expressionless. "And that upset you, did it?" he asked at last.

"The waking up upset me, Mr. J," she murmured. "Y'know, the realization that it…wasn't true."

"Sure, yeah," he replied. "Dreams can seem awfully real sometimes, can't they, baby?"

"Yeah, they can, Mr. J," she murmured, still gazing at him.

He started coughing again, and Harley went to go get him a drink of water. "Thanks, dollface," he said, taking it from her and drinking.

She studied him closely. She wanted him to say it now, to end this silly little delusion once and for all. "Mr. J…you don't want to…I mean…that's not something you're ever going to do, is it?"

He shrugged. "Never say never, kiddo. I know I never do. Ruling things out ruins the spontaneity of life. Spoils the fun and surprise."

She stared at him. "You mean…Mr. J…that one day you…you might…you might…ask me to marry you?"

He shrugged again. "Maybe. One day. Might be good for a laugh. Or it might not. I dunno. Never really thought about it before. Have you?"

"A bit, puddin'," she replied.

"What does that mean?" he asked. "You've actually made plans or something?"

"Maybe. A few," she replied.

He stared at her. "How much is a few?" he asked.

She lifted up her pillow and took out a thick notebook. On the cover was written the words: _Mr. and Mrs. J: Our Dream Wedding_. Joker started coughing again as she handed it to him and he opened it.

"Jesus, Harley…" he began.

"It ain't weird, Mr. J, most girls like to plan out their weddings," interrupted Harley. "It's just a hobby of mine, y'know, just a harmless, casual little project. When I get an idea about it, I write it down. It's not like I'm obsessed or anything."

"You've got costume sketches in here for the bridesmaid dresses," he muttered, flipping through the pages. "Lots of costume sketches…geez, Harley, how many of these are there?"

"Well, you know Red and Selina are going to be picky," she retorted. "Just thought I'd give them a few options."

"About half of this is designs for your dress," he continued, glancing through the book.

"It's kinda important, Mr. J," she replied. "Probably one of the most important things about a wedding. You don't want all the guests saying 'Beautiful ceremony – shame about the dress. Think the fat cow could have been packed into it any tighter?' It could ruin the whole day…do you have a favorite design?"

He started sneezing, and she quickly grabbed the book away from him, clutching it protectively against her chest. She waited for him to finish and then handed it back.

"Do you have a favorite design, Mr. J?" she repeated.

"Um…sure…that one," he said, pointing to a random picture.

"Yeah?" she asked. "You really like that one?"

"Sure, why not?" he said.

"You don't think it might make me look fat?" she asked.

"You're not fat, Harley," he retorted.

"Yeah, but it might make me _look_ fat. Some dress shapes aren't that flattering on me. This one, for instance, might make my breasts look small."

"Your breasts are small, Harley."

"Yeah, but I don't want them to look that way!" she snapped. "Geez, Mr. J, don't you know nothing about fashion?"

"That's a very silly question to ask a man in a purple suit, Harley," he retorted, continuing to examine the book. "This the guest list?"

"Yeah," she said. "I hope you can read it – it's pretty messy. I keep adding people and taking them off, depending on if they piss me off or not, which most of the guests have at one point or another. See, I've scribbled out Red a couple times, but I keep inviting her back. I can't really not invite my best friend, but I'm just afraid she might try something, y'know, maybe try to ruin the wedding by shouting 'I object' or something. You know what she's like."

He studied the list. "You've left off a very important guest, pooh," he said.

"Yeah? Who's that?" she asked concerned.

"Batman," he said.

"No, I didn't leave him out, puddin'," she said, flipping the page. "He's your best man. I thought you'd enjoy that."

"How would we ever convince Batsy to be my best man?" he asked.

"You could tie him up," she replied. "He just needs to stand there and hold out the rings. We could cuff them to his hands and just leave him bound next to the altar. He doesn't need to say or do anything, well, at least until the speeches at the reception. And I'm sure if you asked him to write a speech, he'd do it. He's a nice guy, really. Don't you want him to be your best man, puddin'? I thought it would make you laugh."

He did laugh suddenly, hysterically, pinching her cheek affectionately. "Oh, Harley girl, you know me too well!" he chuckled. "That would be the best gag ever – Bats as my best man! Tied up next to me as you walked down the aisle! It would be absolutely hilarious! But knowing him, he'd probably break free in the middle of the ceremony and ruin everything. He has a tendency to do that."

"Yeah," agreed Harley. "But hopefully not until after we say 'I do.' And then we could have our first fight with Batsy as man and wife, maybe on our wedding night, something to celebrate becoming Mr. and Mrs. J at last. So…whaddya think, puddin'? Do you like it?"

"Yeah, I do. You've worked really hard on this, cupcake," he said, patting her head as he handed her back the book. "You've clearly poured your whole heart and soul into the idea of our wedding. I can see why you were so upset to realize you were dreaming."

Harley's face, which had been alight with hope, fell suddenly. "Oh…yeah. I was, Mr. J. But, y'know, it's the kinda dream that maybe has a hope of coming true one day. Maybe, possibly, someday. Right?"

"Sure, kid, whatever you say," he retorted, lying back down and shutting his eyes. "You can go now. Daddy J needs his sleep if he's going to get any better."

"Oh…ok. Anything I can get you before I leave, puddin'?" she asked.

"Nope. Just get outta here," he said.

"Ok," she repeated heading for the door with the book clasped to her heart.

"Harley," he said. She turned. "The color scheme. You've got red and black written down. I want purple and green. Change it."

"Oh…ok, puddin'," she breathed. "Anything else?"

"Nah. I don't like to think too hard about something that might never happen, myself. I save my concrete planning for real things. But I guess you never know, do you, Harl?"

"No…I…guess you don't, Mr. J," she whispered.

"Night, kiddo."

"Night, Mr. J," she murmured, shutting the door behind her. She went into the living room, still clutching the book, feeling her heart pounding against her chest in excitement. She opened it and scribbled out the color scheme, replacing it with the one Joker wanted. Then she studied the dress he said he had liked, and began making a few slight alterations. "I wonder if it's worth investing in some white fabric," she murmured to herself, beaming. "Y'know, just in case. And some green stuff for Red, 'cause I know she's partial to the color, and I think Selina won't mind wearing green just this once. And Mr. J…Mr. J will want his purple suit, I guess, but he and Batsy are going to need matching flowers. I wonder if Red will mind the flowers…maybe I'll ask her the next time I see her. Y'know, just in case. You never know, really, do you? You never know when he might just take it into his head to propose. He's so romantic and thoughtful that way. Best to be prepared."

It was true, Joker hadn't given her any indication that he ever intended to propose. But he hadn't ruled it out either. And that was enough for Harley.

**The End**


End file.
